


pink umbrellas & red lipstick

by nutmeg101



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, National Women's Soccer League, US Women's Soccer National Team, Women's Professional Soccer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:25:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg101/pseuds/nutmeg101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>simple gestures can go a long way</p>
            </blockquote>





	pink umbrellas & red lipstick

She’s witnessing a break up, she thinks.

Ashlyn has seen the couple before. The tanned man with the light brown always tousled hair and scruffy beard; the woman with long, dark brown hair and heart wrenchingly beautiful smile. On more than one occasion, Ashlyn has lost her breath over it. Tonight is no different. She wears a simple, but stunning red dress, as if they had just come from a fancy dinner or event. 

They frequent the pub a few times a month, but Ashlyn has only ever served them once. She still remembers; he ordered a gin and tonic, and she only opted for water so Ashlyn had given her an extra lemon wedge and stuck a tiny pink umbrella in it. The way she laughed and said “thank you” still resonates with her. Usually they sit in the quiet corner next to the pool table with dim lighting and terribly upholstered booths. Today, they sit right at the bar where Ashlyn is working.

He orders scotch on the rocks. She orders white wine. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, slowly sipping their drinks. The man impatiently drums his fingers against the oak coloured bar a few times and the woman looks away agitatedly, playing with her earring. Ashlyn tries to pay no attention, but it’s hard when she thinks the woman is watching her.

Distractedly, she waits on two elderly men at the other end of the bar. But then the woman  _does_  look over and there isn’t any mistaking it. Even if it’s for the quickest of seconds, she half smiles timidly, like it’s intentional, but she’s not sure if she actually should. Ashlyn overfills the pint glass in her hand, spilling beer onto her white t-shirt and down to her grey Converse.

“Shit,” she mumbles to herself, wiping the glass with a cloth before handing it to one of the men, Mike, a regular.

“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Mike winks knowingly as he brings the glass to his lips. His grey mustache instantly covered in the white foam.

Ashlyn shoots him a narrow eyed look, feeling the burn in her cheeks. 

“Drink your beer, Mike.”

*

In between pouring beer and mixing drinks, Ashlyn continuously glances over at the woman. Her name is Ali, or Alice, she can’t really hear, but whatever her and her boyfriend are talking about intensifies. His face grows more sullen and voice a little louder, and her hand gestures a little more erratic, like she’s trying to make a point with them. Still, Ashlyn is more taken than she should be, considering what she assumes to be going on. 

There’s just something about her. Maybe it’s the way she manages to radiate this aura of warmness despite the way her boyfriend is looking at her with sad and angry eyes. Maybe it’s the way her own eyes- big, brown, and endearing have managed to captivate Ashlyn amidst the darkness and nozzles of all the different draft beer.

Or  _maybe,_ and it’s possibly a stretch, it’s the way she’s already looking at Ashlyn whenever she tries to sneak a peak.

It doesn’t matter. She’s hooked. 

Ashlyn decides to pull a few glasses from the shelves across them. It’s just an excuse to get closer. As she does, she overhears parts of their conversation. It’s none of her business, she knows that, but she can’t help herself. 

_“I don’t get it though. I’ve been nothing but good to you.”_  
 _“David, it’s not that simple.”_  
 _“I need a reason, Ali, you can’t just do this.”_  
 _“I’m not happy, okay? I haven’t been for a long time.”_

It’s a bit more than Ashlyn had anticipated on hearing and luckily, from the other end of the bar, Mike’s friend with the not-so-subtle toupee and Harry Potter-esque glasses waves her over for another drink.

* 

Time alternates in pockets of rushes and lulls. When it’s slow, Ashlyn finds herself tidying nonexistent messes directly across where David and Ali are sitting- she restacks already perfectly stacked dishes, takes the straws out of the holder and puts them back in, and wipes the counter so thoroughly she might actually wear a hole into it. She has to try and not roll her eyes at anything David says, but a couple times she looks up and is met by Ali’s stare. Ali doesn’t smile back, though, at least not immediately or obviously. She seems uninterested in the conversation she’s having with David, but Ashlyn feels the way the slow, burning suicide hums through her veins when Ali refuses to break their eye contact.

Hypnotized is an understatement. Ashlyn accidentally fumbles a glass a shatters it. Her body buzzes, but not with embarrassment; with electricity and adrenaline.

At least now she has an actual mess to clean up.

* 

Fifteen minutes are left in Ashlyn’s shift. She steps into the kitchen for a moment to grab more bottles of beer and wine and when she returns to the bar, David is gone. His coat is gone and there’s a twenty dollar bill sitting in front of Ali against the metal napkin dispenser, as if it had been thrown there in a fury. She slouches in her seat. More than anything, she looks tired and fed up, but through it all, as little as Ashlyn knows this stranger, she can see the relief in her eyes.

“On the house,” Ashlyn says delicately, placing a glass of white wine in front of her. She’s not usually the shy and nervous type, but she’s having a difficult time trying to swallow her pulse.

Ali looks up. Her eyes seem to smile wider than her mouth. “Really?”

A simple nod and smile is all the Ashlyn can muster before quickly retreating back into the kitchen. It’s rash and now she’s feeling a bit stupid for not taking the time to say more, but with time running out and her supervisor lurking nearby, it was more or less her only option.

Through the swinging doors, Ashlyn can still see the back of Ali. She sits there, legs crossed and proper. She’s pulled her hair to one side, draping it over one shoulder and her back looks rigid with tension. Ashlyn takes a moment and observes her; remembers her. Maybe she’ll never see her again, or maybe she will. Maybe she’ll come back with David, or another guy. There are too many what-ifs and Ashlyn can’t believe she’s letting herself feel like this over someone she doesn’t even know.

Then she has an idea.

Lame as it might be and so not something she would ever do, she grabs a napkin and scribbles out a note.

* 

Instead of leaving through the back entrance as she always does, Ashlyn goes through the front making sure to pass by Ali. She slows down her pace as she nears and waits to be noticed. When she is, she smiles. “Have a good night,” she says before casually handing her the folded napkin and heading towards the door.

It reads:

> _Sorry your boyfriend is a jerk. I think you’re beautiful.  
> _ -  _Ashlyn_

*

She’s out the door and halfway through the parking lot when footsteps, like high heels scraping against the pavement, get closer and louder behind her. She makes nothing of it until she hears a quiet and light “hey.”

Slowly she turns around. She’s honestly not expecting it, but there is Ali. Tall and gorgeous in all her glory, half of her face illuminated by the orangey haze of the streetlight they’re standing under and Ashlyn can’t tell if her heart either skips a beat or triples in speed. For the first time in a long time, she’s completely speechless.

A quiet wave passes through them where they both just stare at each other until finally Ali breaks the silence. First with coyest of smirks that makes Ashlyn’s heart lunge out of her chest, next with her words.

“Do you often tell girls they’re beautiful and then just disappear?” 

Ashlyn is floored. The strap of her beige canvas bag cuts into her shoulder and surely her face is as red as Ali’s dress. Awkwardly, she laughs and looks to the ground and then back up.

“No, just you.”

“Ah, so I’m special?”

“Well I don’t give pink umbrellas to just anyone.”

Ali nervously twirls a lock of hair in between her fingers. “I think I still have that, actually,” she admits, unable to look at Ashlyn for the first time tonight.

“Ali, right?” Ashlyn extends her hand forward and Ali’s palm is cool and soft to the touch. She holds it for a moment. “What’s that short for?”

“How – so you’ve been listening, then.” It’s more of a statement rather than a question. 

“Maybe,” she shrugs, slowly letting go of her hand and trailing her thumb over Ali’s. Her confidence trickles back and she takes a subtle step forward. “I’m a good listener…” she cocks her head and slightly lifts an eyebrow. 

“Oh, it’s short for Alexandra,” Ali finally answers. “So what else do you know then, _Ashlyn?_ ” Her eyes sparkle as she emphasizes her name. Then they travel downwards, fixating on Ashlyn’s tattoo covered arm adorned by a shiny golden watch. 

“Hmm, just that your boyfriend, David, kind of, sort of seems like a tool.” 

“ _Ex_ -boyfriend now, for that exact reason.”

“Right.” Ashlyn tries not to grin. “ _Ex_.”

Cars zoom by, the muffled music of the bar filters through its open windows, and the white moonlight reflects the diamonds on Ali’s necklace. Again, she refuses to break their gaze and Ashlyn feels that rush of adrenaline once more. She parts her lips to say something, but a ringing from Ali’s purse cuts her off. 

“Shit, that’s my ride,” Ali says reluctantly, “I have to go.” 

“Oh, but, um- “ 

“Here.” Ali pulls a crumpled up receipt from the pocket of her dress and hands it to Ashlyn. Before either of them can say anything else, Ali takes two steps forward and places the most featherlike kiss on Ashlyn’s cheek that she might as well have imagined it. Then, just like that, Ali takes off in the other direction leaving Ashlyn speechless one last time tonight.

Ashlyn touches her cheek, idly wondering if the red lipstick she’d been wearing had left a mark or not. She waits a moment for Ali to turn around the corner before un-crumpling the receipt.

On it is her phone number written in the same red lipstick.

 


End file.
